Somewhere Unexpected With You
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Through the ups and downs of the past few years - dead but not dead, divorce, broken engagement, shootings, a wedding and a baby - Molly Hooper and Greg Lestrade have become close friends. Away from London, their jobs and familiar places, they discover that there could be more to their friendship than they first realised. Many thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!
1. Away

**The idea of placing Molly and Greg (and their friends) in a unfamiliar place intrigues me. What would happen for the two obviously good friends out of their usual environment and away from their work? Chapter 2 in progress. Enjoy!**

**I've pinned some inspiration for this story over on my Pinterest boards at scribblingnellie. Do pop by and have a look (link in my profile)!**

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**Greg**

_I'm clock watching. Is that a good thing? Do normal people clock watch? M_

_Ok, now I'm just sitting here pretending to be working. I don't normally do that. Honest. M_

Pulling into the space just past the bus stop and cutting the engine, Greg reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. He'd felt it vibrate twice as he'd made his way from Scotland Yard to Barts, doing battle with Friday night rush hour. And he couldn't help grinning as he read her messages. Molly was so conscientious and definitely in need of a break.

_I'm a bit early. Parked up out front. G_

Opening the door, he climbed out of the car, glad for a chance to stretch his legs. Without thinking, his hand slid into his trouser pocket, looking for the cigarette packet that wasn't there. Old habits, he thought to himself. Though, he did rather fancy one.

_No one will mind if I leave a few minutes early, will they? M_

_Not at all, you hard working, dedicated pathologist. Quit stalling! G_

_Be right there! M_

Rummaging in the car door pocket, he located the packet of Polos he'd dropped there earlier. Mints would have to do. As he straightened up, he saw her. Hurrying along the pavement, overnight bag in one hand, Molly was wearing that gorgeous cherries cardigan; it really was her all over. Greg noticed her slight pause, her face turning upwards but then quickly away as she passed the phone box. From the roof down to the pavement, she'd seen Sherlock fall past the window; she'd seen John run to him.

'Greg, hi.'

As she reached him, he took her bag and pulled her into a hug. Molly brought her cheek up to his, giving him a quick kiss. He squeezed his arm against her back. He hated to see her upset, even just a little and he always wanted to hug her until she felt better.

'Molly.' Pulling back from the hug, he bent down to look into her eyes. 'You ok?'

She nodded. 'Yeah. I'm fine. It's just, that spot.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'Even now, I still can't just walk past it.'

'Of course not. That's perfectly normal.' Placing a kiss on her forehead, Greg squeezed her shoulders. The early Spring evening was cooling down but Molly still felt warm from being inside.

Molly put her arms around him for another hug. 'Thank you.'

'Anytime. Now,' he said, opening the passenger door for her, 'get yourself in and let's go.'

Moving round to the back of the car, Greg opened the boot, popping her bag in next to his, double checking he'd remembered to pack his new walking shoes.

'Oh, one thing,' Molly said, pausing halfway into the car, 'who goes first with the music?'

'Ah, my car, my music I think'

'Thought you might say that. So it'll be something that I'm too young to remember then?'

'Hey, cheek, watch it.' Greg winked at her.

* * *

'You look miles away there.'

Molly's voice quietly cut into his thoughts.

'Hmm?'

He looked over at her, taking his eyes from the darkened motorway for a couple of seconds. He had been miles away, going over his day, trying to put it all away in his mind. Molly smiled at him, tilting her head to one side. Greg loved how her whole face lit up when she smiled.

'Sorry,' he said, 'Tough day.'

And it had been, with three suspicious deaths and another fatal armed robbery on mopeds. Greg'd been quite glad to leave it behind, plonking the files on Donovan's desk as he left; he hoped his sergeant would be pleased he'd delegated the cases to her.

'You're getting quite a few of those lately, tough days.'

'Nature of the job, I guess.'

'Not that you'd swap it for anything else.'

Greg smiled. 'No, very true.' Whatever the job threw at him, he wouldn't want to do anything else. 'And neither would you, am I right?'

'Of course.' Molly nodded, stretching her arms above her. 'We're too alike, aren't we, loving our hectic, life-consuming jobs. So, looking forward to a couple of days out of London in the fresh country air then?'

'Well, it'll make a change, all that quiet and fields and trees.'

'Just think - no dashing about after criminals, no paperwork, no night shifts...'

'Just two days of quiet and calm.'

Laughing softly, Molly offered him a Polo from the roll. 'Think you can handle it, the quiet and calm?'

'I'll give it a go.' Greg took the mint from her, smiling as he popped it into his mouth. 'Thanks. Though, think I'll wait to see how quiet and calm two days in the country with Sherlock will actually be. How did John and Mary convince him to come along?'

'Hannah,' replied Molly.

'Really? Well, I guess he has quite taken to her.'

'Probably because she's the only one he can talk to who doesn't ask stupid questions or demand constant explanations.'

Greg chuckled. 'That's rather sweet actually.'

'Yeah, she's a captive, appreciative audience.' Molly laughed as she bent forward to pick up the road atlas by her feet. 'Anyway, don't worry about Sherlock; John and Mary'll be there and they're a good influence on him.'

'D'you know, I sometimes think they can be just as bad as him, even with baby Hannah. Now you, Molly, you're definitely good for all of us.'

'Really?' She sounded incredulous.

Looking at her quickly, he saw the doubt cross her face. Why would she doubt herself? It was true. The revelation of how she'd helped Sherlock fake his death had taken Greg so by surprise; it'd made him realise how much she cared about all of them, and how much they owed her. Loyal, tough and generous, Molly never hesitated to help.

'Of course you are. You're there for all of us, and we're glad you are. Who else can knock sense into us? In Sherlock's case, literally.'

'Oh... thank you,' she whispered, reaching across to lightly touch his arm.

Taking his hand from the steering wheel, he covered hers. 'You're welcome.' Greg liked the warm, soft feel of her hand as he squeezed it.

Slipping her hand from under his, she turned to look out the window at the dark speeding past them, that lovely smile crossing her lips. In the silence that fell between them, he glanced over at her. Molly looked happy, much happier than she'd been for a while. Her split from Tom had really knocked her and Greg'd been worried for her. Glad that she was was there beside him for the drive down to the New Forest, he turned his eyes back to the motorway.

'I think we're nearly halfway there,' he spoke into the quiet, 'must be your turn on the music.'

Molly quickly pushed herself up in the seat. 'Excellent!'

'Oh, I'm not going to regret this, am I?'

Giving him a mischievous smile, she pulled her iPod out of her bag. 'Of course not.'

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**Many thanks for reading!**


	2. What Molly Noticed

**Yay, finally chapter 2. I wrote it and rewrote it and couldn't put my finger on what it was that wasn't quite right... but at last I'm happy with it! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy it. x**

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Molly blamed the mist. That's when it started.

Normally she would just gaze at the mist from her third floor flat window. But here, in the country, well she could just open the French doors in her room and walk straight out into it. With her mug of tea in one hand, Molly wandered along the stone path of the B&B's garden. Tiny droplets clung to the bluebells; they left damp spots behind on her jeans as she brushed past them. It was too early for any noise. She paused; no traffic, no neighbours, no city hum. It was wonderful.

The shuffling movement caught her eye. As she moved further along the path, the fence came into view through the mist. And the pony standing on the other side of it, tugging on the grass of the field beyond.

'Hello there.'

Molly approached softly, her low voice, her movements slow. The pony lifted its head to look at her; it seemed quite calm at her approach.

'It's a bit early for both of us, hey.'

Content to let her stand close with the fence between them, the pony snuffled at her, its breath mixing with the mist.

'No..' Molly pulled her mug back from its curious nose, laughing. ' Don't think you'd like that!'

The sound of slow footsteps broke through the mist; Molly looked up to see a figure approaching her down the path. Greg. She'd know that mop of silver hair sticking up all over the place and those hands in pockets anywhere.

'Morning you,' she said, 'wide awake as well, huh?'

'I wouldn't say that. Give me another hour and possibly.' Reaching her, he slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and placed a kiss on her temple. 'Morning to you too. Who's your friend?'

Molly watched the pony stretch its nose towards Greg, sniffing and snorting into the misty morning air.

'Isn't it beautiful out here.' Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. 'Very peaceful.'

'Don't you find it a bit unnerving?'

Molly shook her head. 'No. I like it. Calm and quiet, like you're cut off from the world. A bit like being in the morgue, sometimes.'

'I feel like I'm waiting for someone to jump out at me,' he said, chuckling softly.

'There's just you and me, Greg. And a pony. Anyway,' Molly continued, smiling up at him, 'how come you're awake so early?'

'Habit.'

Sunlight had started filtering through the mist, crossing Greg's face as he looked down at her. He hadn't shaved but his hair was damp; he'd showered already? He smelt of soap and deodorant and mints. But not coffee. Whenever he popped by the morgue first thing in the morning, he smelt of coffee. But not this morning; that was something new.

'Awake early even with those extra whiskies last night?' She smiled as Greg rubbed his hand over his eyes.

'Don't worry Molly, I am paying for them.'

'You need coffee.'

'That I do.'

'C'mon, I'll make us some.' Giving the pony one last look, Molly turned back.

Letting his arm slip from her shoulders, Greg linked it through hers. 'You, Molly Hooper, are brilliant. First thing I see this morning is you and then you offer to make me coffee. That's got to be a good start to the day.'

And his light kiss on her temple made Molly smile. Out in the country for a peaceful weekend with her closest friends, one of them right beside her, it was a good start to the day. What more could she need?

* * *

A dusting of purple ran across the moor; the hints of emerging heather spread out in front of her and off into the distance. A few ponies wandered among it, their heads bent to the ground. Molly stopped to take in the gorgeous view before her; the sight literally took her breath away. Holding her hand up to her eyes she turned to look back the way they'd come, through the copse, sunlight falling through the trees.

'What you thinking, Molly?'

And there was Greg, stood beside her on the path. He'd fallen back to amble along with her as John and Mary wandered on ahead, John on his phone trying to work out where Sherlock was.

'How beautiful it is.'

Greg turned to look out over the moor. 'You a country girl then?'

'Hmm, a little.' Molly looked at him, his eyes meet hers. 'You?'

'Well, it's not bad.'

Laughing, she slipped her arm though his. 'But you couldn't live out here?'

Greg shook his head. 'No. To be honest, I think I'd end up missing all the noise and smells and criminals of London if I did. C'mon, John and Mary are leaving us way behind.'

Turning her about by the shoulders, they set off again along the dirt path as it meandered through a patch of heather. As they strolled, Molly could feel Greg beside her, their arms touching now and then as they walked. It was nice to be close to him; there was something solid and reassuring about him that she liked. Slipping her arm back through his, she leaned against him, feeling him squeeze her arm with his.

A little further along the path, Molly noticed a small brown wooden sign, pointing up the hill to their right. It looked promising.

'Fancy a view then, Londoner?'

Greg turned to her and Molly pointed to the sign.

'Go on then. Let's see how impressive this countryside thing is then,' he teased, gently pushing her onto the path leading up the hill.

It was steep going; the hill had looked more like a gentle climb from ground level but Molly soon realised how deceptive that had been. Feeling a little puffed, she found herself slowing. Not that she wasn't fit, just that hill walking wasn't her normal mode of exercise. She increased her speed, trying to catch up to Greg. Turning his head, noticing that she wasn't next to him, he stopped and held his hand out to her.

'Come on you, nearly there.'

'Thank you.' Molly clasped hold of his hand, feeling his fingers tighten around hers. 'Must be all that chasing after criminals that keeps you fit.'

'Could just be my longer legs.'

'Are you saying...' Molly took a breath as they kept climbing. '..are you saying I'm not fit?'

'In what sense?' And that schoolboy grin spread across his face. He winked and pulled her up the hill beside him.

'Greg!'

'Sorry.'

And in a couple more steps they reached the summit. Stopping to catch her breath, Molly looked around. The climb was definitely worth it. In every direction the moorland spread out around them - alternating between heather and clumps of trees coming into leaf. Ponies grazed in and out of the copses and across the moor.

Turning to Greg, she squeezed his hand. 'Well, impressive isn't it?'

'Hmm, not bad.' Returning the squeeze, grinning, he turned to look at the view behind them.

Standing close together, sides touching, Molly felt quite content. She liked the strong, warm feeling of Greg's hand in hers. Looking up at him, as he took in the landscape around him, she noticed the brightness in his eyes; must be the fresh air. And what a gorgeous shade of brown they were. Between his silver hair, his deep brown eyes and that smile, he was actually rather handsome. Why on earth would his ex-wife cheat on him?

'Is that Mary down there?'

Greg's voice broke into her thoughts. Molly quickly looked away then back again, but he hadn't noticed she'd been staring at him. That could have been embarrassing.

'I think it is - she's waving.' He raised his hand over his head, waving back.

She focused on the figure down on the path, their arm waving as though signalling to them. It must have been Mary, that blonde hair and red coat were pretty distinctive!

'Think she wants us to come back down?'

Greg nodded. 'Probably. Guess they don't want to lose us as well as Sherlock.' Grinning, he dropped her hand. 'Race you.'

'What?' Molly found she missed the warmth of his hand, but she noticed his grin looked a bit suspicious.

'Race you back down..'

And he took off. Cheek! Molly found herself sprinting after him, boots crunching on the loose stones of the path as she half ran, half stumbled back down the hill. It didn't seem as far going back down. Reaching the cross path just ahead of her, Greg turned and swooped her into his arms as she stumbled the last few steps back onto the path.

'Greg!' As he swung her around, she clung tight to his arms, slightly terrified but mostly giddy. 'Put me down!'

He laughed and slowed down. What took her by surprise more than his swinging her around was his quick kiss on her lips as he set her feet back on the ground. As he pulled away, Greg's eyes meet hers for what felt like less than a second. A look, something half there, crossed his face but was quickly gone. Or had she imagined it?

'Better catch them up.' And with that he hooked his arm through hers and they set off along the path again.

What just happened? Keeping in step beside him, she watched him from the corner of her eye. Looking straight ahead, Greg seemed quite composed, smiling as though everything was normal.

But Molly knew she hadn't imagined the quick kiss he'd given her. She hadn't imagined how her heart had stopped and started over several beats. And she knew she hadn't imagined that look in his eyes. So why was Greg acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened?

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**Thank you for reading!**


	3. What Greg Wondered

**Thanks for being so patient! Apologies chapter 3 took me a little longer than usual. **

**And here we have Lestrade being introspective. I've always seen him as a bit of a thinker - as any good detective would need to be. And to keep up with Sherlock! **

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Greg blamed the fresh air. That's what brought it about.

It cleared his mind of all thoughts of work, of London, his ex-wife. Which was when he discovered hidden ones, thoughts that'd been trampled beneath everything else that was going on in his life. What was he meant to do with those?

* * *

Pubs in London were never this comfy. As he leaned back against the battered leather sofa he took in his surroundings - the enticing selection of proper ales on tap at the bar (he'd tried a couple of them over dinner), mismatched old country tables and chairs, the rough brick walls. He was rather taken with it; maybe the country wasn't too bad after all.

Looking over to the bar, he smiled. All that Spring sunshine and running down hillsides was agreeing with Molly - eyes wide and bright, extra freckles appearing across her cheeks. She chatted with the barman, taking the two glasses of whiskey he handed her; just one last drink for the two of them before they headed back. Letting his elbow rest on the back of the old sofa, he leaned his head on this hand. There was something about her smile and the way she held herself when she was happy. He found couldn't take his eyes off her; she was beautiful.

Hang on. When had he started thinking about how beautiful she was? They were friends, good friends; he'd never thought about Molly in any other way. Why was his mind doing this now? Watching her walk back over, Greg tried to clear his head. But then when she looked up, straight into his eyes, his heart jumped and he couldn't help smiling at her.

'Thanks, you're a star.' Taking the glass from her, his fingers brushed against hers and he quickly pulled back.

'You're welcome.' Molly settled onto the sofa next to him, letting their legs touch. 'Just the one whiskey tonight then?' A smile was playing at the corners of her lips, her gorgeous brown eyes looking into his.

Feeling her against him, he tried to concentrate, pushing his confused thoughts to the back of his mind. Raising his glass, Greg smiled back. 'Just the one.'

As they clinked glasses, Molly held his eyes. What was she thinking? Had she noticed? And then he couldn't think of a thing to say. Seriously, he was hopeless with women.

He didn't know whether it'd been deliberate of Sherlock, Mary and John to leave early with Hannah; were they were trying to leave their two single friends alone together? Yes, Greg liked being around Molly, and it was nice when it was just the two of them. But they didn't feel that way about each other, did they?

'So, coping with all the fresh air and the quiet then?' Her voice broke into his thoughts.

'Sorry?' Was he staring at her?

Molly looked at him, her eyes a little puzzled. 'How you coping with the fresh air and the quiet?'

She'd noticed, Greg was sure she'd noticed. He had to get a grip. Smiling, he leaned back, trying to look casual, as though his mind wasn't confused and his thoughts weren't running away from him.

'I think I'm coping ok with it, though it's definitely agreeing with you.'

Molly looked away, taking another sip of whiskey. 'Yep, I think it is.'

The quiet fell between them. Was she uncomfortable? He'd been staring, hadn't he. It'd never bothered him before when they'd sat quietly together but suddenly he felt the need to fill the silence.

'So, what's the plan for tomorrow?' Greg turned the glass in his hand. 'Mary was saying something about lunch by the river.'

Nodding, Molly finished off her whiskey in one gulp, which surprised him. He'd never known her to knock back a drink so quickly. Did she want to leave? He couldn't blame her if she did.

'Yep, lunch by the river and then back home.' Shifting on the sofa, Molly gathered up her coat. 'D'you mind if we head back? Just feeling a bit tired after all that walking.' Giving him a half smile, she stood up to put her coat on.

'No, no, of course not.' Greg threw back the last of his whiskey, placing the glass next to hers on the low table. He'd spoilt it; getting all flustered about nothing and making her uncomfortable. Nice one, you idiot, he berated himself as he shrugged into his coat.

Thanking the landlord as they passed the bar, Greg and Molly headed for the door. Holding it open for her, he placed his hand briefly on her back as she passed him. And he wondered how often he did things like that, touching her out of affection and habit. All the time, he realised.

'Thanks,' she said softly, avoiding his eyes as she went out ahead of him.

Was she upset? It'd been a really good dinner; they'd chatted and joked, bumping arms as they ate, gently ribbing Sherlock as he tried to deduce all the other people in the pub, taking turns to hold Hannah. Greg thought everything had been ok; Molly hadn't seemed anything other than happy. But now it was just the two of them maybe that was the problem; maybe it was him. And that thought wasn't a happy one.

* * *

A full moon hung brightly in the dark sky, lighting their way back. Cool night air rustled around them. Strolling side by side, Greg looked over at Molly; staring straight ahead, she seemed a little distant. She hadn't touched him or put her arm through his like she normally did. Not a good sign.

'Molly?'

'Yeah?'

'Just checking.'

Her soft gentle laugh cheered him a bit. 'Sorry, Greg. Thinking.'

'About what?'

She stopped. It took him a couple of steps to realise; Greg pulled up, turning to where she stood under the oak tree overhanging the path. Hesitating, she opened her mouth to speak but stopped.

'What?' he asked, concerned. He walked back to her, taking her hand.

Molly looked down at their hands, gently running her thumb over his. Maybe that meant he hadn't ruined their evening.

'Greg, can I ask you something?'

'Of course. Anything, you know that.'

The leaves rustling overhead was the only sound. London at night was never quiet, there was always something in the background - sirens, people, traffic. But out here, there was nothing but leaves and what sounded faintly like an owl. He could almost believe they were cut off from the rest of the world. Just the two of them. And again he couldn't take his eyes off her; in the moonlight, looking up at him, she was beautiful.

'Today, when we came down the hill, you kissed me...'

He had. And it hadn't been the usual kind, on her cheek or her forehead. He kissed her lips. It hadn't occurred to him at the time that he'd done it. He was definitely an idiot.

'...I mean, not like you normally do, a proper kiss, a bit quick but... ' Molly dropped his hand and moved away from him. '...oh, I don't know, maybe I'm reading too much into it. Sorry.'

'No, Molly, please don't be...' She'd been upset by him kissing her. The last thing he ever wanted her to be. Stupid idiot. Greg looked over to where she leaned against the tree trunk. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to...'

And as he said it, he wondered whether he might have actually meant to do it. Kissing her properly, thinking about how beautiful she was, unable to take his eyes off her; all these things must have meant something. Though whether he was ready to admit what that something was, he wasn't sure.

Was he just letting the fresh air go to his head? Being away from London, from the places they knew and their familiar routines was confusing his mind. He'd never been one to think long and hard and be so introspective about stuff. He sort of went with the flow and did what felt right. So what felt right to him there and then?

'You didn't mean it?' Molly stared up at him.

'No, yes...I mean, I ...shit. Sorry.'

Realising he was making a complete mess of it, he ran his hand over his eyes, turning away. With his back to her, Greg tried to arrange his thoughts before he opened his mouth again. Had it been a proper kiss? Had he meant it?

'Greg?'

The sound of her voice in the darkness tugged at the corner of his heart. What was he doing? Turning back, he found her sitting on a bench under the tree, moonlight dappling through the leaves. Molly patted the spot beside her.

As he joined her, he felt her arm slip through his. And then her head was resting on his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his neck. Greg leaned against her, bringing his lips down on top of her head. It was wonderful just to sit close to her.

'I'm sorry Molly. I don't mean to upset you.'

'You're not upsetting me.' She pulled him closer. 'Just confusing me.'

'Sorry. I like you. I do, I just...'

'You're just not sure how.'

Pulling back, he looked down at her. Was that what working with the dead gave you - insight and wisdom about the minds of the living? Molly meet his eyes, holding them as he gathered his thoughts back together.

'Well, sort of, but...' Greg paused. Was he really not sure how he felt? 'I mean, we're friends, I like you. It's just being here, somewhere different, with you ...it's thrown me a bit.'

Smiling, she reached up to brush her fingers across his forehead and along his cheek. 'It's ok.'

'It's not though Molly.' He held her eyes. 'I don't want to upset you or mess you about. You're too lovely to do that to...'

He looked away. She was lovely, sitting there beside him as he rambled on in his confused way. She kept her arm through his as the silence stretched between them.

'Come on.' Molly broke their silence. Taking her arm from his, she stood up. 'We'd better be getting back.'

As he stood up, he felt her take his hand. Whatever she was thinking she kept it to herself but he was glad to have her hand in his; hopefully it meant she really wasn't upset at him. Making their way across the village green, he kept looking at her from the corner of his eye. He had to get this right; he had to sort his feelings out and be honest with her. Molly Hooper did not deserve to be messed about.

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**Many thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it! One more chapter to come.**


	4. Home

**Once I'd started writing this chapter, I found I had to keep going until the end. Lucky I had the day to myself then! So here's the final chapter, pretty much all fluff with a smidge of angst-fluff thrown in. Thank you for the follows and faves and lovely reviews. And thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it! x**

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**Molly**

You know when thoughts take hold and stick in your mind? Molly had Greg stuck in her mind.

She'd spent the early hours lying awake thinking about him. And about what had happened - the kiss, holding her hand, telling her he liked her. Which lead her to thinking about whenever they'd touched or hugged each other or kissed each other on the cheek. Or when it was just the two of them talking late into the night at Barts or in Sherlock's kitchen. Or when they were the last ones to leave the pub together or when Molly hoped that Greg would need to come by the morgue that day to see her.

And once she'd started thinking, she couldn't stop. The more she thought about him, Molly knew that to her Greg was more than a friend. But how did he feel?

* * *

Waving as John and Mary's car, with Hannah and Sherlock in the back, pulled away Molly watched it disappear around the bend and behind the trees. She'd see them again soon in London, with everything back to normal. Almost everything. Was Greg going to say something or would she have to be brave and go first? Had he not said anything because the others had been there? Maybe she'd read too much into yesterday and last night.

Molly took one last look around her; hemmed in by tall trees, the car park felt a bit like a lost world they had all to themselves. It was a shame to leave such a gorgeous spot. In amongst the trees, upright ones and fallen ones covered in moss, they'd sat on a grassy patch by the river and stuffed themselves with sandwiches and cake from the village bakery. Mary and John had stretched out across the picnic blanket, Mary's head on John's chest, arguing about something - lawn mowers, possibly? Sherlock, cross legged, fingers steepled against his chin, watched Hannah as she'd wriggled on her stomach, grabbing at the grass. Molly and Greg? They'd wandered along the river bank, side by side, talking about everything else but what they needed to.

'Can't tear yourself way, hey?' Greg's voice beside her broke into her thoughts. Their sides brushed as she turned to him.

'It is rather gorgeous here, shame to leave. I've... I've had a lovely time.'

Dropping his gaze, he looked away from her, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 'Me, too.'

What did that mean? His face gave nothing away. Without thinking, she reached out to touch his cheek. Stubbly, he mustn't have shaved that morning; she liked it. Greg snapped his head up, his gorgeous brown eyes looking straight into hers. Ok, that made her heart jump.

He covered her hand with his; Molly couldn't look away. What was stopping them from saying it? Were they both too scared of getting hurt again?

Feeling his warm, solid hand take hers, she knew how she felt about Greg. She probably shouldn't get her hopes up, but she knew. She'd spent half the night awake thinking about him. Molly knew she wanted to be around him; she wanted to be able to look up and know he was there with her. But what did he want?

'Greg?'

'I know.' His fingers laced with hers. His voice quiet and rough. 'Sorry. D'you mind if we talk and drive?'

Why had he said sorry? Squeezing his hand, Molly nodded. 'Sure. No problem.'

The crunch of a car driving along the gravel road towards the car park made them both look up. Shaking his head, a smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

'C'mon, let's go home.' He let go of her hand, turning to head back to the car.

Opening the passenger door for her as he reached it, Greg leaned in towards her and Molly felt her heart jump a few more beats as he kissed her forehead. He pulled back, hesitated and then made his way round to the driver's side.

So who was going to speak first? If neither of them could do this, it was going to be a very long drive back to London.

* * *

The country roads slipped by. Greg was silent as Molly stared out the car window at the passing moors and villages and trees. Should she let him go first? It wasn't until they were on the motorway that Greg broke the quiet.

'Molly...' Reaching over to pause his ipod, he let his hand rest briefly on her arm before pulling back. 'Listen, I'm sorry for not saying anything, you know, about last night and all that. I just...'

'It's ok.'

'It's not.'

Which was what Molly had been thinking. 'Ok, it's not.'

She caught a grin cross his face as he pulled out to overtake the caravan in front of them.

'That's what I like about you, Molly. Straight forward.'

Was he flirting? Turning to look at him, she saw him grin again, taking his eyes quickly off the motorway to catch hers and wink. Definitely flirting. Trying to build up his courage?

'Greg, last night, you said you liked me...'

'And you said I wasn't sure how I liked you.'

'Are you still not sure?' Absently pulling at her seat belt, she looked back out the window. Did she want to know the answer?

Greg was quiet. She heard him shift in his seat, flicking on the indicator to move back into the middle lane. Well, at least he wasn't saying no.

'I've never been very good at this kind of thing. My ex-wife...' He paused. It wasn't anger in his voice, it sounded more like resignation. 'I didn't believe that she'd cheat on me, that she was capable of it. Felt like a bloody idiot when I found out. Both times.'

Oh, his face. Molly's heart ached at how upset he looked. It wasn't fair what he'd been through; he was too nice a man to be treated like that.

'I'm sorry.'

'Thanks.' Briefly his eyes met hers and then he looked back at the road.

And what she saw in his eyes made her so angry; how dare his ex-wife do this to him. The affairs and the divorce had devastated him; Molly knew how upset and hurt he'd been. But she'd never realised that it'd knocked his confidence so much. She wanted to hug him there and then.

'Oh, Greg, I wish you'd told me.'

'What, that it's made me think I'm hopeless with women?'

'You know you can tell me anything. We're friends.'

'Only friends?'

And there it was, what they hadn't been talking about. Stuck in the car, on the motorway, there was no avoiding it anymore.

'If you want to just be friends, I can do that. But I thought...' Deep breath and say it. '..I got the feeling, last night, that maybe you wanted more. And to be honest, I... I'd like that.'

'To be more than friends?' His voice sounded... hopeful?

'Yes.'

When he said nothing, Molly looked over. His eyes were staring straight ahead at the motorway. Why wasn't he saying anything? He wanted to be more than friends, didn't he?

Pulling across onto the approaching exit road, Greg turned off the roundabout onto a deserted country road. Parking the car, he turned to Molly. Hesitating, he looked away, hands gripping the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

'Last night, after we got back, I sat up thinking and... and I realised what'd been staring me in the face the whole time. And that made me feel a bit of an idiot. Again.'

'Greg, you're not an idiot.'

'I like you Molly. You're lovely and happy and beautiful and ...I think I'm falling in love with you.' He stopped, quickly looking at her and then back out the window.

Her heart stopped and started, missing a few beats. Falling in love with her? She was pretty sure she'd heard him right. But the look in his eyes.

'And that scares you?'

Molly couldn't help herself, she wanted to touch him, to hold him. Reaching over, she gently entwined her fingers with his, taking his hand from the wheel. Greg squeezed her hand and turned back to her, unclipping his seat belt.

'It does scare me a little. Not that you're scary...' He laughed quietly, that handsome smile crossing his lips. 'You're lovely. But I mean why would you want me, a divorced middle aged copper. Well, that's what my mind keeps telling me.'

Staring down at their hands, she rubbed his thumb gently, feeling the rough skin under hers. She traced the scar across the back of his hand, the one he'd gotten as a constable in his first year, arresting a man waving a broken bottle about. Molly knew why she wanted him.

'I did a bit of thinking last night too and...' Looking up, she made herself hold his eyes. 'And I realised that I want you as more than a friend. You're a wonderful man. Caring, funny, honest... and rather handsome.'

And again, she wasn't expecting it when he leaned forward and softly, hesitantly touched his lips to hers. They lingered close together, Greg holding her face in his hands, deep brown eyes searching hers.

'Seriously? You're sure?'

Molly stroked his cheek, their faces still close, breathing in his familiar smell of soap and aftershave, mints and coffee. 'Yes.'

And then he was grinning and kissing her again. Molly closed her eyes, moving her hand round to rest on the back of his neck and brushing her lips against his.

Suddenly his phone buzzed between them. Both of them jumped and smiled, a little guiltily. Reaching down into the cup holder, Greg picked up his phone. Grinning, he turned it round for Molly to read the message.

_Well have you told her yet? John_

At which point Molly's phoned chimed from inside her bag. Smiling as Greg raised his eyebrows, she bent forward to retrieve it and opened the message. Honestly, their friends were incorrigible; she held her phone up for him to see.

_Have you said anything to him yet? Mary x_

'Shall we leave them in suspense?' asked Molly.

Greg nodded, dropping his phone back in the holder between the seats. 'You think they've been doing it deliberately all along, leaving us alone together?'

'I think they have.' She smiled, turning her phone over in her hands. 'Must have been rather frustrating for them. But we got there in the end.'

'We did.' He slipped his hand into hers, and leaned back over, his lips next to her ear. 'Thank you, Molly.' His voice dropped into that sexy, rough whisper and she felt her knees go a little wobbly.

Turning, she kissed his cheek, holding his eyes. After several long seconds, Greg looked away, clearing his throat. 'Right, s'pose I better get you home then.' Starting up the car, he clicked his belt back in place.

'So, are we half way there yet?' Molly pulled her bag up from by her feet, rummaging in the front pocket.

'No...' Greg turned the car around, heading back to roundabout over the motorway, '...you'll just have to put up with my music for a little bit longer.'

Molly quite liked the way her stomach flipped as he winked at her. This was definitely the start of something rather good.

* * *

'Coffee?'

Popping her keys onto the little table in the tiny hallway, Molly flicked on the lights. After three and a bit hours in the car, it was nice to be home.

'Thanks but no.' Greg handed her the overnight bag. 'I should get back, early start tomorrow.'

'Ok, no problem.' Dropping her bag just inside her bedroom door, she felt his arms go round her waist, his chest solid and warm against her back.

'Did I say you were wonderful?' he whispered into her ear.

Molly shivered as his breath tickled her cheek. Turning in his arms, she found their faces close together; she couldn't help staring at his mouth and up into his eyes. 'You did.'

And then Greg's lips were softly pressing on hers. It was rather lovely, lingering in her hallway in his arms. Soft and hesitant at first, his kiss became more confident as Molly put her arms around his neck, letting her fingers run through his hair. Why would such a nice man ever doubt himself?

'Ah, I really better be going.' Greg pulled back, taking his arms from her waist.

Molly grinned at him. She'd be happy for him to stay but then she needed an early night as well; two days away from the morgue and no doubt there'd be plenty to do on Monday.

'Did you want to have dinner tomorrow?' she impulsively asked him. 'There's a little Italian place round the corner from Barts. Does lovely carbonara.'

'I'd love to.' He placed a kiss on the top of her head. 'Now, I'd better go.'

Opening the front door, he stepped out onto the landing. 'Night, Molly.' He looked back at her, his eyes bright as he smiled at her.

'Night, Greg. I did have a lovely time. Thank you.'

Reaching for her hand, he kissed it quickly before she pulled back and pushed him towards the stairs.

'Go!'

Grinning at her, which made her knees a little more wobbly, he started heading down, waving as he disappeared around the bend in the staircase. Pulling her front door closed behind her, she hurried across to the large front window. And he was there, waving up at her as he unlocked his car. Yes, Molly was definitely falling in love with Greg Lestrade.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


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